


Wish You Were Here

by corvidcall (anathema15)



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9053338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathema15/pseuds/corvidcall
Summary: Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

Floating through space gives Jerboa some time to think.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuckyDiceKirby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDiceKirby/gifts).



> For the Friends At The Table Secret Samol gift exchange, Sarah asked for "some sort of sibling stuff between Ibex and Jerboa" and got this instead. Sorry? You're welcome?

The Chime’s Automated Dynamics unit grabs him and hurls him off of Detachment. He reaches out, trying desperately to grab onto the Divine, but it slips just out of reach, and he knows immediately that he's lost to the great vastness of space, with nothing to ever slow his momentum. He feels a great spike of icy panic shoot through him, and then disappear just as quickly- after all, what is there left to do? He's dead now.

\---

For a long time, it was just Quentin and Attar, both of them working hard to finish school, Attar working harder than anyone Quentin's met before or since to keep them both fed and clothed as well. But Attar always had time for him, cooking dinner with him every night, asking question after question to get Quentin to talk about his day, gently shaving the sides of his head so he could still look crisp and presentable for school the next day. Quentin didn't understand then how hard things must have been for his brother, the determination and focus he must have had, and how much Attar must have loved him. 

 

And then it was Quentin and Attar and Maryland, living in her small house on September. Quentin liked Maryland, liked the way she would tease Attar when he waxed self-righteous, liked how she always had dirt under her fingernails, liked how happy she made Attar.

He remembers sitting at her kitchen table as she helped him with his homework with an easy patience that made him certain she must be a great teacher. Attar, having tried and failed to do the same thing, sat across from them, reading a book on his tablet, a comfortable, familial quiet hanging over them.

 

And then it was just Maryland and Quentin, two orbiting planets whose sun had disappeared. Quentin tried to keep in touch, but it was so much harder now that Attar was Ibex and Ibex was gone. 

Ibex tried to call him as often as possible, whenever he had a spare moment, and sometimes when he didn’t. There were occasions when Ibex wasn’t alone when he found time to call, and Quentin got to meet Candidates and Divines he’d only read about. Quentin almost never saw his brother in person, but that was fine. He had an important job. And so what if Ibex was late to Quentin’s high school graduation? He was busy trying to help people, and at least he was  _ there. _ Liberty and Discovery transferred a sizable sum to his bank account as a congratulations, and Ibex took him out to dinner after.

Less than 6 months after that, Quentin was picked as the candidate of the Divine Detachment.

 

The truth is, Quentin- Jerboa, now, he’s  _ Jerboa, _ even if the name sounds foreign in his mouth- always wanted to be a candidate. He knew that he only got Detachment because Ibex did so well with Righteousness. If they’d had any other family, they’d probably be drawn into candidacy as well, but it was just the two of them. Always just the two. In his heart, Quentin-  _ Jerboa _ had been hoping that having this shared burden might draw them closer together, and when Ibex bought him a drink and they talked about Divines and animals, it felt like there might be a chance. He held the memory of that afternoon in his mind, a perfect crystallized moment, full of potential. He didn’t realize at the time that it was the potential for pain as well as joy.

Maybe Jerboa sank too deeply into Detachment, as Kobus did with Loyalty, as Vicuna did with Grace, as Ibex did with Righteousness, but when the time came to make his choice, he sided with Grace, because it seemed practical. Ibex isn’t Attar, Ibex is an artificial construction that Jerboa doesn’t know, whose plans and desires he doesn’t understand. Grace, at least, is a known entity.

Ibex left Jerboa a message, that he listened to several times over as he orbited Counterweight, even if he never called Ibex back.

_ “Jerboa, even with all this, you’re still my brother. If you ever need me, just open the door.” _

And when Automated Dynamics bears down on Detachment, Jerboa does.

\--

_ “And, hey, you got a good one. Detachment is.. it's like a falcon.” _

He could see the lights of The Kingdom Come come back on, and the silhouette of Detachment shrinking rapidly as he moved further and further away.

_ “Oh, a falcon, it's a bird, a big bird. Wide wings, sharp talons, incredible speed, a fierce hunger.” _

The Seventh Sun appears suddenly, seeming to come out of the fabric of space itself. Jerboa- or, no. Maybe he's just Quentin now, separated from his Divine, back to the mundanity of mortality. Quentin finds a strange comfort in seeing the ship there, even if it can't help him either.

_ “Then what's Righteousness?” _

After the last time he saw his brother, he went back to his room and spent the night researching old birds. Sparrows, hawks, ducks, crows, ravens.

Falcons.

Vultures.

He didn't understand, then. He barely understands now, what Ibex was trying to tell him about the cost of Candidacy. Thinking about that afternoon, he can remember lots of things he chose to ignore at the time. The fear in Ibex's face, the anxiety. Ibex didn't want him to be a candidate, and Quentin knew that, but didn't get why. Ibex seemed to love candidacy, and Quentin wanted that.

He's starting to understand that fear, now. Even if it's a little too late, he's glad for the connection, the shared understanding he and his brother have finally achieved.

_ “Oh, Quentin. It's a vulture, man. It's a fucking vulture.” _

He gets one last good look at his brother's ship.

“Goodbye, Attar,” he whispers, even though he's well out of any sort of transmission range, “Don't let it eat you.”

He closes his eyes before hitting the release on his helmet, and Quentin Rose lets the nothingness take him.


End file.
